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Thane sat motionless in his seat for a long time after Shepard had left the room, a stream of memories playing in his head. Irikah … Shepard … Irikah … Shepard. Such different women, but with such similar hearts, valiant and strong and generous. Irikah had changed his life, awakened him and given him form and shape. When she was killed, he had given himself up to the battle sleep again and expected to remain there for whatever time remained to him. Once he had avenged her death and punished those responsible, he had no longer cared what happened to his body, because his soul was already halfway across the sea, waiting to rejoin her.
Only the thought of Kolyat, lodged firmly in the back of his mind, had kept him tethered on this shore. The fate of his son had been the only loose thread he had felt the need to tie before taking that probably final jump through the Omega 4 relay. His son was now as well taken care of as Thane could ask for—it was clear to him that Kolyat stood in Captain Bailey's mind in the place of another son lost by a fallible father—and so he should be able to release his soul into the battle sleep again with no qualms.
But the shreds of sleep were dissipating rapidly, blown away from his mind by the unstoppable winds of another woman's strong wings. Another warrior-angel in the service of Arashu.
Thane contemplated that for a moment, how Arashu would feel about a human as Siha. Shepard was more than courageous enough to satisfy the goddess—surely matters of anatomy were secondary to a person's spirit.
Considering anatomy brought back the moment earlier. Tip of the tongue wets the lip. Eyes dilate, cheeks flush. Thane's body reacted again as it had then, blood heating and heart pounding. He had wanted to kiss her so badly in that moment, and he knew she had felt the same.
Friendship was a "start", she had said. Which meant that he had awakened her from her battle sleep, as well. There was a pride in that—he, of all those whose eyes watched her hungrily, had found an answering hunger in her—but also a fear. He had nothing to offer her but sorrow and loss and grief, no time with which to cherish her as she deserved. How could he let her awaken with him and then leave her alone? Better, far better, to withdraw himself now, to return to his own sleep, before she came fully awake, before she committed her heart to a man who would be forced to leave her all too soon.
Selfishly, he knew his fear was as much for himself as it was for her. He had resigned himself to the end of his life; for years he had welcomed its imminence. He had been ready to cross the sea and rejoin Irikah, especially now that their son was turned away from his father's dark path. Why was this opportunity offered to him only now? He had been ready to go; he didn't want to live in hope, to love again knowing that there was no future to be had. He was ashamed to admit he didn't think he was strong enough for that, and that very lack of strength made him unworthy of a woman such as Shepard.
Juniper, he reminded himself. She had offered that up without thought, even though she had admitted in the next breath that she kept that part of herself hidden from everyone else. But she had revealed it to him fearlessly, trusting that her name would be safe in his keeping. The thought touched Thane's heart, making it flutter in a way it had not in ten years. He longed to be worthy of that trust, to allow Juniper to awaken in his arms and become whole. But what if he allowed this to happen and losing him, as she would before very long, caused her to disconnect again, to seek the same battle sleep he had dwelt in these long years past? Could he take that risk on her behalf? He had no right to trifle with her affections, to awaken her and then to leave her, to leave behind him a heart as broken and lost as his had been when Irikah died.
Thane nodded, pushing down the terrible longing for her that filled him. He would let her know that friendship was the start and the end, as far as they could go together.
Closing his eyes, he clasped his hands in front of him. "Goddess Arashu, Mother of us all, show me why you have placed your angel in my path. Grant me the wisdom to know how to protect her, the grace to put her needs above my own, the strength to deny my own desires."
The memory washed over him again, so vivid he could count every freckle that dotted her nose, and he clenched his hands more tightly together and prayed anew for wisdom, grace, and strength, hoping that the goddess would hear his prayer.
Shepard opened her eyes, her heart pounding. The dream had been vivid but confused, leaving her with no specific memory of what had occurred but a vague overwhelming sense of having tried to reach something and failed.
She sighed, rolling over and looking at the clock. Too early. And that after a troubled night's sleep already. Well, who could blame her, really? Between the Collectors and the Reapers, anyone would be having nightmares, lying awake long into the small hours staring up at the stars.
Did drell dream? she wondered idly. Or did they dwell in memory all night? She wished it was late enough into the morning that she could go down and ask Thane, the curiosity bright in her, washing away the remnants of the dream.
She curled herself up in the covers, smiling as she thought of him. She remembered the way he had half-risen in his seat when she told him friendship was only the start of what she hoped could be between them. His eyes … Closing hers, she tried to picture him exactly as he had been in that moment, the way his hand had moved as if he was about to reach for her, the way his mouth had opened in his surprise. Was this how his memory worked? Was that something that only the drell could achieve, or could she learn to sharpen her own memory and achieve something close to it? She would have to ask him.
From there, her still-sleepy mind drifted to thoughts of his mouth and how it would feel on hers. His lips were full, sensual, and they looked very soft. Were they soft? Was his skin smooth to the touch? His jacket opened over his chest, a broad green expanse of muscled flesh, but she didn't know what else lay beneath. Frowning, she opened her eyes, wondering if they were … compatible. What a shame that would be. His anatomy seemed humanoid, but it was hard to know for sure without seeing.
Seeing. Mm. Shepard couldn't help imagining pushing that jacket back over his shoulders, having his elegant hands disrobing her in turn. She felt the pulse of her arousal building, and with a frustrated groan she pushed the covers off and got up. Lying here in bed imagining things that were potentially impossible was worse than the dregs of the nightmare had been, especially given how long it had been since …
No, she wouldn't think about Kaidan. Not now. That was over, and she was fine with it now. What she had felt for Kaidan had been—exciting. Pulse-pounding and exhilarating. But there had always been an awkwardness there, an awareness that being together was against the regs that both had been so thoroughly trained in, and underneath that, an even more divisive awareness that she was his superior officer. That was something they had never had the time to get past; they had simply shoved it away and pretended it wasn't there.
Thane, on the other hand, was not her subordinate. He was working with her team of his own free will, without even pay to to put him in her debt (or, rather, Cerberus's). And intellectually, where she and Kaidan had been very similar, Thane was by far her superior. Better read, better spoken, more thoughtful, more … spiritual. She felt instinctively that being around Thane had already given her new things to think about and sharpened the edges of her curiosity. And curiosity was vital in what she had to do. If she didn't hunger to know why other beings did the things they did, what motivated them, she couldn't learn how to stop them, or help them, as the case might be. Kaidan's certainty that he understood the universe was dangerous—it was too easy to go from a belief in your own understanding to a certainty that your point of view was the only right one.
She put the toothbrush back in its holder and turned on the shower, smiling to herself as she imagined talking to Thane about certainty and curiosity, the differences between drell memory and human, drell dreams and human, books and music, art, life and death … everything, really. She wanted to close the door of the port observation deck behind them and sit there together for hours.
Death. The reminder made her shiver despite the heat of the water beating down on her. Thane was dying. There wasn't all the time in the world; no matter whether they beat the Collectors or not, came back through the Omega 4 relay or not, the time was limited. His body would slowly but surely fail him and she would lose him. Could she really begin a relationship knowing how it would end?
She rubbed a hand over her face, letting the water soak into her skin. It was too late to ask herself that question—she already cared for him enough that she couldn't simply put it aside because she was afraid to be hurt. Besides, there was no guarantee. Over and above the Collectors, the Reapers, was the memory of another day, a day that had been perfectly normal until a strange ship had appeared out of nowhere, and ten minutes later her home was in flames and she was floating through space into the jaws of death. And before that, yet another perfectly normal day, one that had begun with another argument with her mother and ended with blood and slaughter. A day like that could come again—today, tomorrow, next week, there was no telling. There were no promises. Knowing that, Shepard felt a sense of calm. Because if tomorrow could be the end of things, did it matter if Thane only had a year or so? And if things could end so abruptly, then other things were also possible—cures, breakthroughs, treatments that could delay the symptoms. She had never been one to surrender herself to despair, not since that long-ago day when the shuttle had taken off from Mindoir and she had seen the fields her parents had toiled in receding beneath her. She wasn't going to do it now.
Shutting off the water, Shepard nodded to herself. She was going to embrace her life, and learn the lessons Thane had to teach, and she wasn't going to ruin it by looking ahead and anticipating the eventual sorrow. There would be time enough, if there was any time at all.